


Sarcasm.  It's just one of the services Priestly offers.

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Ten Inch Hero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-21
Updated: 2008-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1641404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Priestly was born one hot afternoon inside a combination tattoo and piercing shop just off the boardwalk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sarcasm.  It's just one of the services Priestly offers.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for peganix

 

 

Priestly was born one hot afternoon inside a combination tattoo and piercing shop just off the boardwalk. Before that, he was just Boaz, a thin, geeky loner who no one ever noticed. That was kinda nice when the football players had been looking for some entertainment, but he'd just graduated high school. Boaz didn't need to worry about some jock stuffing him in his locker anymore, or pleasing his dentist father and receptionist mother.

Not that he could do much more to disappoint them besides not following in his father's footsteps.

He walked past the door to the tattoo/piercing shop again, his shoulders hunched and his fisted hands shoved deep into his hip pockets. There was a Folgers coffee can under his bed that had two months worth of rent and food money in it. Boaz didn't have a job, didn't even have a lead on a job, and he really shouldn't spend money on things that wouldn't feed him or keep him dry. 

He knew better, but there was an ache under his ribs, something that stretched out trying to tear him in two. Something had to change. He looked in the mirror, and even he couldn't see himself anymore. Boring brown hair, murky green-gray eyes, freckles that exploded when he caught any sun. None of that added up to who he was. None of it made any difference went he was trying to find the courage to ask out a girl or answer a question in class.

"Hey."

Boaz jerked around, wincing as he expected to be run off by the storeowner only to find himself face to face with a girl. She had short bleached hair that chopped away straight at her jaw line giving her an angular appearance. 

"You want to go in with me?" she asked, tilting her head to the shop as she raised her eyebrow at him.

"Huh?" he asked, and immediately flushed. Normally, people didn't talk to him much, and then never asked him to go places.

She gestured at the sign hanging up in the shop's window and answered, "They're having a two for one sale. I was going to get my ears pierced anyway, so why shouldn't you benefit?"

Boaz backed away; still unsure about why she would bother to take the time to talk to him. She wasn't beautiful, not one of the plastic shells out prowling the beaches, but her eyes were kind. He couldn't think of a reason not to go in with her, even if it turned out to be a joke, all he had to do was leave. He didn't have anything to lose anymore.

"C'mon, you can hold my hand so I don't cry," she pressed, smiling at him.

Actually, he'd squeezed her hand while his ear bled, and the man with the piercing gun laughed. When she asked him what his name was, he'd answered, "Priestly."

The next day, he bought a t-shirt that said _People Like You Are The Reason People Like Me Need Medication_.

Things seemed to work out for Priestly. Jen vouched for him at a small burger and sandwich grill close to the beach. It was a laid-back place; he didn't even have to fill out an application. The boss, Trucker, was the kind of man his dad would have crossed the street to avoid, but he treated Priestly well. He teased and laughed with them while they worked, and seemed to know a little bit about everything.

Jen was awesome too. His crush on her quickly settled into the first real friendship he'd ever had. With Trucker and Jen's easy acceptance, Priestly finally began to say all the things he'd never had the courage to say out loud before. He didn't have to put up with snobby uptight people just because his parents knew their parents, and he was free. Trucker quickly took him off the counter and taught him the grill.

His favorite shirt had the slogan _Ready. Set. Go **AWAY**!_

A tattoo was next. It hurt like hell, but around the hour mark, when his body ached from enforced stillness, something inside him broke. The needles piercing his flesh weren't putting ink under his skin, but releasing what was already there. It was almost euphoric watching the lines and swirls take shape over his forearm. When it was over, he made another appointment for the next week.

The hair was more of an accident than anything else. Since he was a kid, his dad had never let it grow out over Boaz's ears, so Priestly hadn't cut his hair once in the months since he'd been kicked out 'for his own good'. He'd been in the shower when someone banged on his apartment door. Since he was waiting on a delivery, he jumped out slinging a towel around his waist as he ran for the door.

"Boaz Priestly?" the bored delivery guy asked, shoving the signature machine in Priestly's hand without waiting for an answer.

Gritting his teeth, Priestly scrawled his name across the screen.

"Have a nice day, sir," the delivery guy said, trading for the package. He finally lifted his gaze to Priestly and smirked, "Nice hair, dude."

Priestly rolled his eyes up and nearly went blind when shampoo dropped into his eye. His faux-hawk was melting into dripping suds that twisted down his back and onto the carpet. The next day, he went to the style shop down from the grill and came out with an extra three inches of height and enough color-dyed hair gel to last him for months. 

He was wearing a t-shirt that said _Don't Hit Kids. No, seriously. They have guns now._

Now people looked at him, and he couldn't care less. He liked his hair, the tattoos, and the holes in his head. He didn't have anyone to impress and Jen and Trucker liked him for who he was, how he treated them, and what he did. Priestly figured that if a person kicked puppies it didn't matter what they looked like, so why shouldn't the opposite be true too? He was a nice guy it shouldn't matter what he looked like. 

It shouldn't matter that his shirt read _I'm Already Visualizing You With Duct Tape Over Your Mouth_.

"Ow, shit! Why do women put themselves through this crap?"

Priestly tuned from where he was cleaning the grill and watched Jen perched on a stool rubbing her eye. Mysterious feminine paraphernalia scattered across the counter in front of her spilling from her bag. There wasn't anyone at the tables, so he wiped his hands off on his apron and sidled closer.

"I'm going to blame the swinging pendulum of society. You know," Priestly said, settling his hands on her shoulders and trying to remember what he'd learned from that show on Discovery, "a couple hundred years ago, it was the skinny chicks that were shit out of luck. Everyone wanted the plump girls because they were rich enough to eat three squares a day."

"So that's my problem," Jen drawled, her Midwestern accent cutting through, "I was born in the wrong century."

Priestly rubbed her shoulders, peering over at all the sticks and jars and brushes that most women took for granted. "Naw," he said, gently squeezing as he massaged her neck and shoulders, "they didn't have computers back then, you would have been lost. I didn't know you even had all this crap." She didn't need it. Everyone loved Jen, she was like, the nicest person on the planet. 

"I've got a date tonight," Jen said, blushing until the skin from her forehead to her chest blotched with color.

"Good for you, Jen," Priestly smiled, feeling both excited and protective of her. She was like the sister he never knew he'd wanted, and even though she was a couple of years older than him, he felt responsible for her. He needed to make sure that no one hurt her.

She just shrugged, letting her hair fall over her eyes as she squirmed under his hands, "Yeah, not so much. My parents set it up with the youth pastor from the Baptist ministry on campus. I don't actually know the guy."

"Well, he's a lucky guy," Priestly said, trying not to think about just how lame his own love life was. He was still trying to find the balance between skanky girls who assumed he was trouble and preppy girls who only hoped he was trouble. "And you're still beating me for the week." For the month really.

"Thanks, Priestly, you're a sweetheart."

Priestly coughed clearing his throat, and gave her upper arms one last squeeze before he let go. He reached around her and picked up something that looked like a colored pencil but with a thick tip. "So, what's the big deal with this thing?" he asked.

Jen took the pencil back and gestured with the tip dangerously close to her eye, making Priestly flinch, "You put it around your eyelids to draw attention to them, but it tickles too much and makes my eyes water before I finish."

"It can't be that hard," Priestly said and plucked the pencil away from her. He picked up the tiny mirror from the counter and made the make-up face that seemed like genetic knowledge to women everywhere. At first, he didn't press hard enough, but then he figured out how to angle it to put a dark line around his eye.

"You're a pro, Priestly," Jen said with a grin as Priestly moved on to the other eye.

"Yeah, I'm a natural," he answered, finishing up and batting his eyelashes at her. He moved over to the bigger mirror hanging on the wall so he could see both eyes at once.

It had been almost year since he first met Jen and the man looking back at him looked nothing like Boaz. He twisted his head looking from the tattoo on his neck, to his yellow mohawk, to his dark rimmed eyes. Priestly wasn't just a man, he was _other_ , full of both confidence and personality. He doubted that his parents would even recognize him anymore, or if they did, they probably wouldn't admit it. 

He reached out and smudged his fingerprints over the silvery surface watching to make sure that the reflection mirrored his movements. That he wasn't just imaging the change. His shirt said _i have an intense desire to return to the womb_.

When Trucker saw the new addition, he turned to Jen and pretended to sigh, "What did I tell you about encouraging him?"

Jen shrugged and winked over Trucker's shoulder at him. Priestly went into work the next day with a thicker mask of eyeliner and his nails painted black.

Priestly was even smart enough to be accepted by the local community college. Well, with mucho help from Jen and Trucker, Priestly scraped through the admissions process. Jen held him down while Trucker stripped the t-shirt that said _Learn From Your Parents Mistakes, Use Birth Control_ from him and gave him plain black to wear.

It suddenly didn't matter that continuing his education was the reason his parents kicked him out, because it was what he wanted to do. Turned out that he was good at that whole 'learning' thing, and if his essays sometimes rambled a little, he always got extra credit for originality. He was actually on the electrical/engineering track, but he couldn't help adding a history class or two when he could fit it into his schedule.

He had friends, a job, and a goal; three things that he had never believed he'd ever have, especially all at once. Then, _she_ walked through the front door.

Everything he'd ever wanted all rolled up in one spectacularly hot package, and he couldn't believe his luck. She was a goddess - smart, funny, with personality up to her eyebrows, but she wouldn't give him the time of day. She seemed determined to date every loser who walked through the place before she'd realize that they were meant for each other.

Tish laughed when he told her he was a feminist, but he didn't think it was so funny after he heard the lines she used to reel men into her web. She didn't need them; any guy ought to know how lucky he was just to get to talk to her. Jen rolled her eyes at him to his face, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see her watching them closely, her face closed with concern.

They fit right in at the grill. Trucker was stalking the shopkeeper across the road, and Jen had her harmless internet buddy who she'd never have to disappoint. He was sure that it was only a matter of time before he wore Tish down, then she'd have to see how much he loved her. Priestly could wait; he could take his lumps and roll with them. Eventually she would see him.

Then Piper came into their lives and, whether she was a catalyst or not, the status quo changed. Tish passed him over the biggest douche bag she'd ever dated. He felt as helpless as skinny little Boaz hiding in the hallway after gym class so he wouldn't have to shower with the other guys. Nothing made sense, and even Jen let him down, buying into the superficial bullshit that ruled society. 

Up was down, and he was on the outside looking in. The girls had this close bond, this secret language that he didn't understand. It was like they were talking Swahili, and he didn't have anyone to confide in. Nobody rushed to give him a hug when he needed it. Everything was FUBAR. Not even his _Your daughter is in good hands_ shirt cheered him up.

It seemed like in the blink of an eye, he threw himself into the first fight of his life, found out that Trucker had lied to them all, and watched three of his closest - _only_ friends find happiness with their sweethearts. Priestly knew it was just a matter of time before Tish found another asshole to date; it was just her nature.

He didn't want to be left behind. Not again.

All it took was a pair of scissors and fifty wasted dollars at the Banana Republic to find a mask that Tish would accept. Boaz didn't fit any better than he had through high school, but Priestly had to hope that a little bit of happiness was better than nothing. 

He felt trapped, he couldn't help hunching his shoulders and ducking his head. The woman who sold him the clothes thought he was shy. He couldn't tell her that she'd look hotter without the blatant lip, eye and boob job. Priestly could have, but he couldn't be Priestly anymore. Boaz didn't look in the mirror any longer than he had to, knowing that the tattoo would give him away. Knowing that if he blinked, the reflection might not open his eyes again.

Jen cornered him outside on his first break. He sat in the shade and she stood in front of him looking more serious than he'd ever seen her. "Priestly, are you really sure that this is what you want to do?" she asked, tilting her head and letting her concern overflow. "You loved your hair. Your kilt."

Priestly would have smirked. He would have quirked his head and shot off an "Affirmative" to make her feel better. Boaz just shrugged, tried and failed to mold his lips into a grin, "I think I need to."

She pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded, "I'll always be here for you, no matter what color your hair is, or what brand of shoe you wear."

He remembered those words every time he had to bite his tongue. Every time he ran his fingers through his short hair and every time he passed a tattoo parlor. Tish fit into the curve of his body, the soft sigh she made right before she woke up filled his heart. It should have been enough.

His shirts didn't say anything.

Priestly was reborn on a cool evening just outside the Beach City Grill. 

The only thing left of Tish was a shadow that stretched back to his feet from the sunset as she walked away. 

He pulled his polo over his head, still careful not to mess up his hair even though he'd lost his mohawk three months ago, and left it on a nearby bench. Someone would find it who wanted or needed the soft, collared shirt. Priestly definitely didn't. 

He bought a new shirt from a street vendor and pulled it on, feeling more himself with the words _If you're playing stupid, then you're winning_ blazed across his chest.

Tish was headed home, somewhere on the opposite coast. Said she wanted to find herself, and he didn't really begrudge her that. He'd already had two chances to discover who he really was, and he was still drowning in the shallows.

Jen grabbed him by the ears when he showed up twitching on her doorstep, and pulled him down to kiss his forehead. She took his hand and led him to the bathroom where she pushed his back up against the sink counter. Taking the pencil liner, she held his chin and traced around the edges of his eyes. When she finished, he turned slowly and raised his eyes to see his reflection.

For a quicksilver moment, Boaz and Priestly warred with one another. Then the moment slipped away.

 


End file.
